


My Favorite Thing to Do is You

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood Kink, Dubious Consent, M/M, Macro/Micro, Monster!Jack, Public Humiliation, lots of stuff basically, more kinks and ships will be added, rival CEOs au, warnings will be on every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Compilation of all the fics done for the Valentine's Day Kink Bingo! :)





	1. Rhack, Size Difference

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to do a kink bingo where people send in requests! Someone requested size difference with Rhack and I wanted to do something based on this [AU drawing!](http://shadowfear-art.tumblr.com/post/170599839359/finished-i-call-this-au-troll-blesome-fortune)
> 
> Warnings for micro/macro and dubcon here!

Rhys should have just let the monster be. 

As tempting as the jewelry decorating the sleeping troll’s body had been, he should have just continued on his way. But his greed and curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d climbed the monster’s body and tried to carefully dislodge a precious jewel embedded in its belly button. 

But not carefully enough. 

And now, he was being held in the monster’s grasp, the nasty unkempt claws dragging all over his body, the troll examining him with greedy eyes as he held Rhys up to his face. A face that could have been handsome, but marred by grotesque features—fangs poking out from underneath his lips, ears long and pointed, skin deep green and scarred in places. 

“My my, such a pretty little snack.” The troll’s noxious breath blasted over his face as he cackled. Rhys cringed, the smell of rancid meat and mead invading his nose and turning his stomach. There was a piece of something—or some _one_ , caught between the troll’s teeth, his obsidian canine glittering against its yellowed neighbors. 

“Jack _loves_ little morsels like you who think they can _steal_ from him.”

“I—I wasn’t stealing,” Rhys defended feebly, “I thought you were a hill, I was just trying to climb over you, I swear!”

“Is that so? Well, _then_ I’m gonna eat ya for waking me up from my nap, kiddo,” The troll— _Jack_ —rumbled, tickling one gross claw underneath Rhys’ chin, tipping it upwards. 

“Though….you are a pretty boy, aren’t you? Jack likes when they’re pretty.”

The troll’s face twisted with a sharp, lecherous grin, his mismatched eyes shining. The claw trailed down Rhys’ throat, pricking at the collar of his shirt and slicing it open around the top button. 

Fear struck cold into Rhys’ heart. He grabbed at the trolls fingers, weakly trying to pry them loose as Jack stroked down his body with new intention. 

“Wait, don’t!”

Jack laughed, voice low and cruel as he squeezed Rhys, leaving the young man breathless and gasping. 

“Oh, you’re not in a position to be making any demands at all, pumpkin.”

The troll picked at Rhys’ breeches, effortlessly dragging them down to his knees before tossing them away like a used kerchief. Rhys twitched, legs instinctively closing to hide his nakedness. He tried to cover himself with his hands, but Jack’s thumb knocked them away as he drunk in the human’s half-naked form. 

“Mmm, you’re such a cute little thing. I think I’ll turn you into a lil’ creampuff before I eat ya.” Rhys squeaked in fear as Jack’s other claw stroked down his own stout stomach, peeling down the rough leather of his loincloth. Rhys flinched as the troll’s cock popped out from below his belly, just as horribly green and bulging as the rest of his body and so huge Rhys could already feel it in the pit of his stomach. A fat gold ring dangled from the tip, glinting in the sunlight. Rhys thighs pressed even tighter together. 

“H-hang on, if you put it inside of me, you’ll kill me!”

“So?” Jack snarled, clawed hands grasping tighter about Rhys’ body, like he were a cheap plastic toy. “I’m not gonna be losing sleep over another dead human.”

“B-but if you keep me _alive_ , you can uh, keep on using me to please you! What’s the point of just wasting me on one fuck?”

The troll shrugged, the massive albino pelt slipping about his shoulders. 

“Eh. There’s plenty of you pests running around.” 

Rhys wriggled in Jack’s hand, trying to keep his gaze stern and confident even as fear squeezed his heart. He waggled a finger at the troll’s nose, making him go cross-eyed. 

“Maybe, but you’re not going to get someone as cute as me coming this way again, I can promise you that much. Everyone in my village knows I was coming through here. When I don’t come back, they’ll know it was dangerous, and you’ll never have a chance with someone like me ever again.”

Jack relaxed back up against his mountain of golden rock, rubbing the raggedly goatee on his chin. Rhys’ heart leapt as the troll’s expression softened in consideration. 

“I guess you _are_ pretty cute…and it would _probably_ be a bit of a waste.”

“Definitely a really big waste.” Rhys nodded fervently in agreement. 

“But we’re still gonna have to do something about this, kiddo.” Jack gestured down towards his cock. Rhys stared at it for a moment, licking his lips and thinking.

“Okay…okay, hold on.” He’d established it was too big to go inside of him without something important ripping, so that was out. But he _could_ use his mouth—maybe, if he was adept enough with his tongue the troll would be so pleased that he’d actually let him go. Or at least be distracted enough that Rhys could slip away and elude him. 

“Just…okay, how about you just hold me down…down there and I’ll….I’ll blow you.”

“Blow me? Oh, _kiddo_ , I’d like to see you _try_ ,” Jack cackled, thumping one clawed foot against the ground in glee, but he lowered Rhys level with his crotch regardless as he relaxed against his rocky, golden throne with a grunt and a jangle of piercings. 

Rhys shivered as he was brought face-to-face with the troll’s fat cock, his heart stopping and mouth going dry as he looked back at the stiff, throbbing member. He swallowed without saliva, hands trembling as they raised up, grabbing for purchase against the troll’s shaft. 

It was warm, much like the mossy palm he was now kneeling in. As Rhys watched, pre-cum bubbled slightly at the tip like a pot starting to boil over. Nerves worried in his stomach, the head of the troll’s cock frightening him. So he ignored it, for now, as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the underside of the troll’s shaft. 

He kissed up and down all flesh within reach, his hands stroking up and down the sides of Jack’s cock. He opened his mouth, tongue pressing flat against the warm skin. Jack tasted of metallic earth and salt, making Rhys’ lips tingle. 

The hand closed back around his waist suddenly, yanking him away from the cock. Rhys gasped, eyes flying up to Jack’s toothy smirk leering down at him. His finger stroked Rhys’ chest, feeling his heart stutter. 

“Mmm, this is nice, sugar, but I dunno. You’re gonna have to _really_ blow my mind of you don’t want me to eat you.”

Rhys’ mind raced as he wiped saliva from his lips, trying to think of what would convince the troll he was worth sparing. Jack grunted at his hesitation, lifting the little man up. Rhys kicked and shrieked, stammering for more time but the troll didn’t pop him in his mouth and start crunching his bones—instead, he turned Rhys around easily in hand, then lowered him back down onto his crotch. Jack’s cock jutted out from under his belly like a thick green stem, and for a horrible moment Rhys feared the troll was going to end up trying to fuck him anyway. But Jack didn’t try to push his cock inside of him, instead wedging Rhys’ atop his shaft just shy of his balls, as if the young man was riding his favorite horse back home. 

“ _There_ we go.” Jack patted Rhys’ head like he was a dumb pet. Rhys gasped, grabbing for purchase against the troll’s cock as his thighs clenched around the shaft. He felt Jack shudder, a low groan rumbling through the troll’s body. 

“Oh yeah. _Oh_ yeah. Now _this_ is worth not eating ya for.” 

Rhys moaned and shut his eyes, feeling his cheeks spread as he sat against the troll’s shaft. He circled his legs tighter around the girth, hugging it with his hands as Jack held him and jerked his entire body against his cock. The troll’s heaving belly pressed up against Rhys’ back, keeping him lodged and snug between the troll’s cock and hand and his bulging abdomen. Rhys gasped, his body squeezed as it was rubbed up and down Jack’s shaft like his entire being was a toy for the troll’s pleasure.

But even such rough treatment—and indeed perhaps _because_ of it—couldn’t stop the first tingles of need to start to flare within Rhys’ loins. The troll’s hand and ponderous belly had pushed him until he was practically laying flat against his cock, nestling Rhys’ own member between the warm, sweating shaft and his skinny abdomen. Soon he started to grind himself down, independent of Jack’s guiding hand, feeling his cock start to stiffen and drip with pre-cum as he humped the monster’s massive girth. 

He opened his eyes, mouth slightly hung open as he drooled. It’d been forever seen he’d been intimate with anyone, and though the idea of being used by a troll in such a filthy manner should horrify him, he couldn’t stop his body from responding to the friction and sweat and the squeeze of Jack’s clawed fingers around him and the press of the troll’s torso from behind. He felt so small, so helpless, and that feeling sent a thrilled surge through his loins that had him gasping and whining in pleasure, even as his cries were drowned out by Jack’s deep, throaty moans. 

Rhys slid his hand up the sides of the shaft, fingers tickling along the sensitive skin as he worshipped the huge cock he’d been forced upon. He pressed his mouth up against the flesh, feeling the warmth of Jack’s blood and fluid surging through his dick, bulging out in thick veins. As Rhys kissed the trolls cock, his little hands traveled upwards, dancing along the puckered skin of his glans. Jack’s golden piercing jangled and twinkled with each thrust, drawing Rhys’ eye. He kissed closer and closer to the pierced flesh, until he planted his lips right up against the warm metal. He darted his tongue out, flicking the tip into the small hole where the ring dug right into Jack’s flesh.

The noise the troll let out was unholy, the valley practically rumbling with his howl. Rhys thought he heard a couple of rocks from the adjacent cliffs breaking and tumbling down, but Jack squeezed him tighter and more pre-cum splashed against his face and all he could focus on was pleasing Jack as his own little cock rubbed up against the shaft of the one he was riding.

Rhys _swore_ the air itself split when Jack came, the troll’s roar ringing in his ears long after his cock had spasmed and shot cum like a cannon out all over his thighs and the mountain throne below. Jack’s fist clenched tight around him as he rocked his hips violently, and for a moment Rhys thought his lungs might burst as he was crushed between Jack’s hand and stomach and—oddly enough—that was enough to push him over the edge and splattered all over the troll’s shaft. 

Rhys must have blacked out—due to the lack of oxygen or the orgasm, he wasn’t sure—because next he knew, he was resting on Jack’s bulging pecs, with a warm clawed hand petting with odd affection down his back. He heard the troll chuckle as he stirred, the sound vibrating against Rhys’ ear. 

“Congrats, kiddo. You’ve proved your case, and then some.” Jack slid his finger underneath Rhys’ chin, tilting his head up. Rhys moaned softly, his neck weak, body pliable and limp. He knew he should be trying to escape, but Jack was so warm and his energy was so spent that he could barely move a muscle. His eyelids fluttered, a small sigh escaping his lips as Jack let his head fall to rest back against his chest, settling for stroking the young man’s fluffy hair and lulling him back into an insidious sleep.


	2. Rhackothy, Public Humiliation, Daddy Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some dubcon, humiliation, and collaring here!

“ _So_ , is anyone gonna ask me about my new pets?”

The board members shuffled uncomfortably, nary a cough heard in the ensuing silence. Most of them, in fact, had been trying hard to _ignore_ the fact that Jack’s imposing chair at the head of the table had been flanked by two crouched, naked men since the CEO had first led them into the room on leashes and collars like it was part of his normal routine. 

They’d learned long ago it was best not to question Jack’s eccentricities, but considering he was _directly_ asking them to address it, it left them in a bit of a quandary. The glanced at each other furtively as Jack watched, lips curled in a devious smile as he awaited a response. 

“How….how did you get them, Handsome Jack sir?” the PR director finally piped up, voice small and ready as he tried to clear it. The whole room breathed a collective sigh of relief, undercut slightly as Jack yanked the leashes of both of the men and whistled sharply and made them both stand up, giving the board members a full view of naked genitals, tight collars and bruised, bitten skin. Awkward coughs and murmurs rumbled across the table, eyes alternating between looking pointedly away and inevitably drawing to the two attractive men forced to stand nude in front of the entire Hyperion board of directors. 

“Now there’s a story.” Jack leaned back, voice almost wistful as he gazed with debauched fondness between his two pets. He looped the ends of the leashes around the arms of his chair, tying them tightly, though neither men made any attempt to move, their arms crossed and trembling behind their backs. 

“You know me, kiddos, I don’t like it when my orders get disobeyed. Not just disobeyed, actually, but spat on and thrown back into my face like I was some kind of brainless _idiot_.”

One of the pets—the tanned one that looked like a younger version of Jack—swallowed roughly, the bob in his throat visible from even the other end of the table. The other—slighter, taller, and splashed all over with blue tattoos like an art piece—flushed deep down to his chest and looked down, eyes full of shame. 

“So, you can imagine how _unhappy_ I’d be to find someone _touching_ something that was mine without permission, when I’d _explicitly_ told them not too, huh?” Jack’s already malicious smile edged into a proper snarl as he leaned forward into his chair, scooting it closer on its wheels as his broad hands smacked harshly into the rears of his two pets. The tanned one bit his lip in a grunt, but the other couldn’t help the pained cry that came tumbling from his mouth as he stumbled at the slap. Jack kept his hands on their asses, massaging them like clay.

“So I figure I was owed an apology. But a corny lil’ ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t good enough for Handsome Jack, wouldn’t you kids agree? He deserves a little more than that for such a _transgression_ , huh?”

The board members balked, unsure if Jack was talking to them or to the two men, whose situation seemed the apparent result of a terrifying personal grudge. They wisely kept their mouths shut as Jack violently pinched his pet’s rears, finally drawing a muffled yelp from the tanned one. 

“Y-Yes, _daddy_ ,” they replied in tandem, voices husky and tight from shame. Jack grinned gleefully, sitting at the edge of his chair as his arms wound around the waists, elbows crooked at their hips. 

“See? I’m not a _monster_. You’ll always get at least one chance to _properly_ apologize,” Jack snickered as his broad hands rubbed down their crotches, brushing through the prickle of shaves pubes as he started to play with their cocks. Jack grunted happily as he felt them start to stir, leaning back abruptly and dragging the two pets with them, forcing them to sit splayed on the arms of his chair as he continued to play with their cocks. The board members that were watching gaped, crossing their legs beneath the table at the uncomfortable arousal. 

“Well? Meeting’s not over yet, kids. Don’t pay any mind to me. Just gonna milk my _apology_ for all it’s worth,” Jack laughed nastily as he squeezed and stroked his pets’ cocks, far more occupied with them than the unfortunate director that had to follow up _that_ sordid presentation. 


	3. Rhack, Bloodplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings for this one!

Rhys _really_ liked blood.

Like. In a sexy way. And not just a little accidental spotting from a hickey gone too far, no. He liked seeing long lines of blood cutting through skin, dripping down like fat beads of sap from an alien tree. Syrupy and glistening like jewels in all kinds of lighting, attractive and drawing his eye no matter where it was or how it was drawn. 

Rhys figured something must be wrong with him. _Normal_ people balked at the sight of blood instead of relishing it. 

But as long as Jack indulged him, what was the harm?

Rhys had quickly learned the differences in the flesh on various parts of Jack’s body. His shoulders, chest, and arms were still thick and firm with muscles, the skin rougher especially on his hands and palms. Often during their kink sessions, Jack would drag his fingers through the blood bubbling up from one of the other various cuts on his torso—Rhys’ favorite spot—and stick it into the young man’s mouth, the tips worming around as they pressed against Rhys’ suckling tongue. There the salt creased into Jack’s fingers would mingle with the sweetness of fresh blood pumped from his chest and make Rhys go wild.

But he stilled preferred to drink right from the source itself. 

Rhys loved to tenderly press the small flick-knife—the one with the ornate golden handle Jack had gifted to him back when they’d first started exploring his kink—against his lover’s body, especially his chest and stomach. The flesh of his pecs stiffened with muscle whenever Jack shifted and squirmed underneath the blade, hinting at the motherload of blood pulsing right from his quickened heart like a bubbling spring. But Rhys was even more fond of Jack’s stomach, long softened by too many meals consisting only of pretzels and beer. The flesh there had more give than other parts of his body—soft and tender and tempting as Rhys licked his lips and drew a long red curve just under his lover’s belly button. 

“You’re a sick little freak, aren’t you?” Jack mumbled, fingers petting affectionately through Rhys’ hair as the young man drunk heartily from the blood trickling down the slight curve of Jack’s stomach. Rhys chuckled against the slick flesh, lifting his head to look his lover in the eyes. 

“Who’s the sicker one here, the guy drinking blood from his boyfriend’s body, or the boyfriend letting him do it?” Rhys licked the fresh blood from his lips, a spare droplet splattering down against Jack’s quivering stomach. Red trickled down his flesh, pooling in the crease between his abdomen and hip to form an enticing little reservoir that Rhys was quick to suckle from, tongue plunging into the sensitive crevasse and making Jack hiss and arch his hips. The older man’s chest and stomach rose and fell with quickened breaths, a questioning whine strangling from his throat at the strange sensation.

“J-Just keep that pretty lil’ blade of yours away from my junk, ‘kay?” Jack moaned as soon as he caught his breath, hands digging into the pillow beneath his head. His teeth bit into his lip as Rhys lifted his head with a mischievous snicker, winking at his boyfriend as he closed the flick-knife and tossed it onto the sheets. 

“Deal. I’ve got other tools I wanna use, anyway.” Rhys moved his mouth atop Jack’s erect cock, hot breathing blowing against the sensitive head and making it twitch with a bubble of pre-cum. His lips glowed red from the blood, a monstrous contrast to the pale of his skin and the devious, icy twinkle in his ECHOeye. Rhys felt Jack’s gasp as he sucked his cock into his mouth, the man’s own blood warmed by Rhys’ saliva as it lathered up his shaft, leaving it pinkish and slick. Rhys watched as Jack’s body twitched in a confusion of pain and pleasure, teeth biting so hard into his lip he wondered if he might draw blood there, too. 

He could only hope. 

Rhys bobbed his head up and down Jack’s cock, expertly rubbing his tongue against the underside as he teased the tip against the back of his throat, holding Jack’s scarred hips down as he suckled him to the very edge of orgasm. Jack moaned, spine arching up as he suddenly came down into his boyfriend’s mouth, the blood on his chest and belly already dry and cracking as he twitched and jerked. Rhys’ throat contracted, swallowing a little bit of Jack’s release even as he pushed his tongue up to the roof of his mouth, keeping the majority swimming around between his cheeks as he pulled his lips free from Jack’s cock. 

Rhys could see now that Jack’s teeth had indeed broke through his lips, leaving the tips of his incisorsstained with blood fanning out with the panting wet of his saliva. 

Any question or protest the older man had on the tip of his tongue was quickly smothered as Rhys straddled him and pressed his lips to Jack’s, the remainder of his warm load spilling back into his mouth. They both groaned in tandem, pleasure fluttering through Rhys’ belly as he sucked on the fresh wound in Jack’s lips, the metal of blood mixing with the salt of the cum as they made out, slicked by the sick mingle of fluids that flecked against Jack’s chin as Rhys finally broke their kiss with a gasp.

Jack wheezed, eyes glazed with spent arousal as he looked up at Rhys. The young man stroked his face, cupping it in both hands as he studied Jack’s expression, wondering if he’d gone too far—but then Jack’s slack lips curl up in a lazy, pleased grin.

“ _Mmm_ …my favorite….slutty lil’ vampire…”

Rhys snorted, leaning down and butting his nose affectionately against Jack’s. 

“With how much you came…think that makes _you_ the slut.”

Jack’s eyebrow raised.

“And you didn’t?”

Rhys looked down between them, blushing at the streaks of cum painting all over Jack’s shivering chest and belly. He hadn’t even realized it. His fingers traced softly over the fluids painting Jack’s body, like a lurid, aggressive masterpiece. The cuts in his skin yawned open with each tremble, like little red mouths twitching pain through Jack’s nerves. Rhys rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish in the aftermath. 

“We…we should probably get you patched up, huh?”


	4. Rhack, Face-sitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trans!Rhys and Rival CEOs AU in this one! :)

The president of Hyperion had a pretty foul mouth for someone who reprimanded others for their language. 

Restraint from peppering his speech with the more acrid swears just left him with no choice but to get _creative_ , or at least what passed for creativity within Handsome Jack’s thick skull. His metaphors were as clumsy as they were lurid, leaving Rhys wondering how such bizarre language skills failed to hamper the man’s sheer magnetism. Rhys could appreciate that kind of blunt charisma, perhaps _because_ of the fact that Jack remained charming with so much stacked against him. 

Still, even with that natural draw, he was a lot more palatable when Rhys got him to shut up.

Jack’ wrists jerked instinctively against the deep red ropes keeping his hands suspended between the taunt of his arms and the stout posts flanking the headboard of his hotel room. Having a trade summit in one of Eden 6’s deluxe resorts certainly had its advantages—the massive, sturdy beds topped with down comforters that sucked down whoever laid into them were one. The gorgeous view of the lagoon—encircled by the distant, shimmering curve of the coral atoll—from the luxurious penthouse suites was another, though Rhys put sightseeing out of his mind for now, paying attention only on the Hyperion CEO bound and helpless beneath him. 

He’d ride Jack’s cock later. It was one of his better features, even if he didn’t understand yet how best to use it. Rhys was knowledgeable enough about his own arousal to shift his hips and squeeze his thighs just enough to make it work even if Jack thrusted and fucked with all the grace and focus of a landed fish.

Right now, however, Rhys was more interested in keeping Jack _quiet_. 

His knees dug into the fabric just above Jack’s head, calves tucked back underneath his stretched, suspended triceps. Rhys wiggled his toes in pleasure, feet nearly tickling at the sides of Jack’s bare chest as he bore his hips down against the CEO’s face, forcing his mouth against his entrance. He’d been quick to grow slick, even against Jack’s reluctant lips, and now that the older man was properly getting into it, he was practically seeing stars. 

“ _Ahh_ —this is so, _so_ much better, you know?” Rhys’ voice, thick and heavy as honey, chuckled as he ground forward, urging Jack to push his tongue deeper inside of him. Jack grunted in what might have been a response, might have been a reaction to his mouth’s entrapment against the young man’s crotch. 

Rhys slid his own hand underneath his shirt, plucking at his stiff nipple as he moaned. He could feel his hair slowly start to fall out of its gelled coif, loosened by the sweat he could feel beading down the back of his neck. His metallic fingers twisted his nipple just as Jack got the hint and probed his tongue proper inside Rhys’ hole, rough flat pressing up against his sensitive clit. He hissed, shirt suddenly too hot and sticky against his chest as his other hand helped to clumsily rip open the glowing buttons. Rhys used the thrust of his hips to help shrug the vest and shirt off his body, fluttering fabric falling down his arms like shed black shadows as he bared his pale, tattooed skin to no one but himself. 

The tendons in Jack’s arms pulled as tight as the ropes binding his wrists. Rhys could feel him growing more bold beneath him, the movement of his mouth and tongue more purposeful as it sought out all the little spots inside of Rhys’, paying special attention to those that made the young CEO jerk and shiver the most. Rhys leaned forward slightly, urging Jack’s mouth and tongue closer to his swollen clit as he braced his hands against the headboard, fingers dug into the rustic, reclaimed driftwood as he rocked his hips down against the older man’s eager mouth. 

Muscles clenched like a fist in his crotch, the conscious feel of more slick pushing from his hole onto Jack’s tongue making him shiver as he struggled to keep up with his breathing. He could feel his heart beating out of time in his chest, hips rutting faster and faster as Jack’s lips sucked, actually _sucked_ against the swollen folds of his genitals.

Rhys wailed as he ground down on Jack’s mouth one final time, hips digging any last shred out of pleasure from that probing tongue and those eager lips as he came, spurting slick all over the older man’s face as he sat heavily upon it. His chest vibrated with the speed of his panting, eyes sparkling for a moment as he lost track of his mind and body in the sea of ecstasy that overwhelmed him. When he blinked back into awareness, he felt everything within him relax, bones melting like butter over Jack’s comparatively stiff, shaking body. 

Rhys laughed softly, a mean smile curling over his parted lips as he reached down, ruffling Jack’s hair as if he were a dog that had just earned a bone. 

“I really earned that, you know. After I had to listen to you run your mouth all day and act like you’re hot shit?” He patted Jack’s head. “Things are a lot more fun when you’re nice and quiet.”

Jack tried to respond, but his mouth was still muffled between Rhys’ thighs. The young man shivered at the vibrations trembling through his crotch. He looked over his shoulder, smirking at the tent he could see rising out of Jack’s pants. 

“I’ll tell you what, big guy, you give me another orgasm just as good as that one was, and I’ll take your pants off, ‘kay? Maybe if you’re _really_ good, I’ll even suck your cock.” Rhys smirked as he started to move his hips again, flushing at the overstimulated pleasure shaking through his legs and turning his knees numb. He stroked Jack’s hair, letting the sweaty, peppery locks fall back limp against the bed.

“But only if you _keep quiet_.” 


	5. Rhysothy, Body Worship, Over-Stimulation

Things were different, now that Tim wasn’t running for his life on a hunk of space rock or forced to go to the gym to keep peak physical fitness for the sake of his boss’s misplaced ego.

Things like his mental health and sleep schedule, but also things like his waistline.

It certainly didn’t help that Mr. President of Atlas also really loved his sweets and had a penchant for sharing with his new bodyguard.

The weight had started off small at first. Tim had gotten a bit of a stomach drooping from his abs that could be easily passed off as a post-meal paunch. But as Rhys continued to order ice cream for their meetings or whenever he was bored—and even gave Tim the code so he  _too_  could order the little service drones to whip up a cone of pineapple-vanilla swirl whenever he wanted—he noticed his waistband growing tighter as his hips followed his belly’s lead to wage war on his previously unshakeable belt notch.

It was a change from the chiseled facade he’d been contracted with, but Tim didn’t mind it too much—especially since the newfound pudge seemed to draw Rhys’ hands like magnets, and Rhys’ hands on him were almost never a bad thing.

“We need to get you new pants,” Rhys breathed into his ear one night as Tim crouched on all fours on the Atlas CEO’s bed. He was busy peeling said pants down his bodyguard’s thighs, metallic fingers rubbing soothingly against the red marks the tight fabric had left imprinted into Tim’s soft flesh.

“D-Don’t remind me,” Tim groaned as Rhys finally rolled the pants down to his knees, giving him enough access to the older man’s ass. Rhys’ flesh fingers slid between his cheeks, already slicked up with lube. Tim didn’t wince when Rhys slid inside—he’d done this time and time again back on Helios, and Rhys was far kinder and softer than Jack was, though he had less to prove.

“For the record,” Rhys murmured as his cybernetic palm slid around Tim’s hips, tracing an ample circle as it came to rest over his belly button, “I think this is a better look on you. When we first met, you were so jacked you looked like you were  _starving_.”

Tim chuckled, blowing his hair out of his forehead. Rhys’ fingers, despite being metal, tickled slightly, and his belly quivered in response.

“Well….I’m definitely not starving now.”

“And you look amazing. Like…wow…” Rhys marveled, his fingers kneading affectionately into Tim’s abdomen as he kissed the guard’s jawline. “And you’re so  _cuddly_. And responsive.”

The digits inside him twitched, brushing up against his prostate, and Tim groaned, teeth biting into his lower lip as Rhys continued to work him up, and up, and up.

It wasn’t long before Tim was reduced to little more than a boneless, twitching mass against the bed, muscles long gone to Jell-O. He’d already been teetering on the edge of orgasm when Rhys had entered him, and after a few scant thrusts he’d already come against the bed, leaving Rhys to rut into his trembling, overstimulated body from behind.

Part of him wondered whether his stamina had gone the way of his abs—and if the CEO cared that he had to take charge more often than not lately—but as Rhys finally tossed back his head and came and filled Tim with a warmth and fullness he was just now getting used to, he figured he could grow a little fat on his new paycheck, as long as Rhys was always there to share the weight.


	6. Rhack, Strangulation

“ _Kitten_ ,” Jack speaks firmly despite the fingers twitching along his throat, “you really need to put some more effort into it.”

“I—I’m  _trying_ ,” Rhys refutes, shifting awkwardly where he’s seated atop Jack’s hips. He has his hands pressed nervously against his neck, fingers fanned out like a butterfly’s wings towards both sides of his lover’s throat. His thumbs meet just above Jack’s Adam’s apple, the solid bob underneath the digits a reminder of the life he could accidentally snuff out of Jack if he isn’t  _careful_. But the older man seems pretty content with the idea of Rhys playing fast and loose with his life, which makes him even more nervous—especially when Jack grunts, reaches up, and grabs Rhys’ wrists to force his palms harder against his own throat.

“C’mon, I’m not made of glass here, babe. I told you to choke me, and I want you to  _choke_  me.” Jack taps the yellow chrome of Rhys’ right forearm. “I’m  _real_  curious about what kind of damage you can do with  _this_.”

“I…I don’t exactly  _want_  to do any damage,” Rhys sighs, honestly wishing he could just lay back and put up his legs and let Jack do what they normally did until he’s fucked out enough to fall asleep. Or hell, if Jack  _really_ wanted to switch things up, Rhys could always just be on top. Or they could just use a couple of toys or handcuffs like a normal couple, experimenting with  _sex_ rather than with their lives.

But Jack’s insistent, urging Rhys to press more of his weight against his throat as he tugs his wrists, intentionally jerking him off balance. Rhys’ fingers twitch, cybernetic palm curling, still unwilling to fully bear down on his lover’s weakest point. He feels suspended on the edge of something new, and he’s not so sure he wants to take the next step.

But Jack is smiling at him, his confidence never wavering as he skirts his fingers up Rhys’ flesh forearm, sending a tingle of goosebumps in their wake.  

“Rhys.” Jack winks up at him, his cheeks starting to pink from either arousal or the pressure on his windpipe. “C’mon. You think I’d really let you kill me?”

Rhys breathes out, tension unwinding in his voice as he finally grins back.

“Of course not.”

He stops thinking about what might happen if he squeezes too hard or too long and instead gives way to Jack’s conviction, entrusting the man who’s survived this long with the weight of his own death as he clenches, cybernetic and flesh palm alike moving in tandem like two slabs of a vice—though even with years of working together, the incremental precision of the metal hand still contrasts sharp with the sweating, softer press of his human fingers.

Rhys had never thought of his hands as particularly large—nothing compared to the size of Jack’s own twin monsters—but as he bears down on his boyfriend and tightens his grip he finds Jack’s neck to be small, manageably fit between the circle of his hands as his fingers nearly meet back around in the sweaty nest of hair creeping down Jack’s neck.

The older man inhales, breath fighting against Rhys’ palms, and that bit of resistance goads Rhys to push down harder. His grasp grows tighter as Jack’s grin spreads, his cheeks growing more ruddy as his eyes roll up, stretching popping veins of red against the bulging whites in the same lurid thrill he’s dragging Rhys down in. Something warm and victorious rushes through Rhys’ chest as he rocks his full weight forward, ass nearly lifted off of Jack’s hips as their tented crotches rub together. He pushes harder and harder as he thrusts himself between Jack’s dick and his neck, the bed rocking and creaking with their shifting bodies.  

It’s only his own orgasm that breaks the hold Rhys has on Jack—a cry breaks from his lips and his hands clench tighter briefly before they fall slack, parting to reveal the thick ring of red bruised around the CEO’s throat.

Caught up in bliss as he is, Rhys misses the quick moment after he lets go of Jack’s throat where the breath doesn’t return so readily to Jack’s lips. But by the time the colored dots of bliss fade away from his vision Jack is already coughing his way back into consciousness, his crazed smile fallen to a dizzy, almost drunken little grin as he looks up at Rhys with watery eyes.

The younger man pants on all fours above his lover, his cum warm and heavy in his boxers, hands now planted shakily against the sheets, as if shocked at what they had done. Jack raises his head despite his bruised neck and brushes his lips against Rhys’, drawing the young man out of his post-coital fugue with a reassuring kiss.

“Told ya,” he croaks as Rhys catches his face in both hands, fingers grazing in worry over the fading blush in his cheeks.

“It’ll take more than  _that_  to kill me.”


	7. Rhackisha, Spanking, Bondage

“But  _Nish_ ,” Jack complained, hands petulantly stuck to his hips, “it’s  _my chair_.”

“Is it?” Nisha twisted her fingertip playfully against her cheek as she fluttered her eyelids in faux innocence. “Funny. Didn’t see your  _name_  on it. Which for you shows a bit of  _restraint_.”

“Do I need to brand all my stuff with my frikkin’ initials or something?” Jack growled as he stepped around his desk, eyes falling to her lap with an annoyed grunt. “Seriously? You wanna take everything that’s mine?”

“Your name isn’t on him either,” Nisha purred, her clawed nails stroking the quivering spine of the young man splayed across her thighs. Rhys looked up at Jack, his eyes caught half between pleasure and pleading as his hands tugged limply at the whip wrapped tight around his wrists. His pants had been yanked down over the soft curve of his ass, the skin already bright red and lashed with spots of blood. He looked ridiculous, with his considerable height splayed helplessly across Nisha’s comparatively smaller lap, and the meager attempts at escape quickly told Jack that the kid wasn’t exactly opposed to laying ass-bared over his girlfriend’s thighs.

Jack braced his hand against the back of his chair, fingernails digging into the yellow leather as he loomed over the two, narrowing his eyes at Nisha as she met him with only a greedy, provocative smirk.

“Do I need to brand his ass to get you to stop touching it?”

“Oh, you  _know_  that wouldn’t get me to stop touching it.”

Nisha squeezed Rhys’ ass harder in emphasis, until the beads of blood along the abrasions burst into little trickles. Rhys winced and bit his reddened lip until he couldn’t hold back, a needy little cry breaking forth and going right to Jack’s groin. Nisha snickered, patting Rhys’ rear before catching a bit of blood on the side of her nail and running it against her tongue.

“He’s sweet. Have you ever tasted him like this? It’s better when they’re  _scared_.” She pinched Rhys’ bruised flesh, rubbing the flat of her nail against the fresh bubble of blood and holding it out just shy of Jack’s lips. The CEO curled his lips, before sucking the tip into his mouth, tongue flicking against the tang of blood.

“Guess I don’t have as much of a refined palate for it as you do,” Jack murmured as he rested his hands on Rhys’ exposed ass, feeling the shivering moans that ran through his body.

“So are you gonna let me back into my chair? You’ve had your fun. Aren’t there bandits that need killing somewhere anyway?”

Nisha stroked where his hand rested atop Rhys’ ass, her nails barely pricking against his knuckles.

“There’s always bandits that need killing, but I need some down-time every once and awhile, and your kid here was just the thing to scratch that itch. Also, no, I don’t think I’m ready to give back the throne  _just_  yet _.”_

She wasn’t gonna budge, so Jack bent down and grabbed hold of something he  _could_  heft around.

“H-Hey!” Rhys cried as Jack suddenly grabbed him around the waist, hoisting him up in the air as he kicked, pants and boxers falling down to his knees and exposing his groin as Jack sat petulantly on the edge of his desk, glaring at Nisha over the kid’s shoulder. Rhys hissed, squirming as he was forced to sit on his injured bottom.

“What do you think kiddo? I make a  _much_ better throne, don’t I?” Jack chuckled as he licked the side of Rhys’ face, hand splaying over his belly and holding him tight against his body.

Nisha finally rose, kicking the chair and letting it roll away on its wheels as she strode forward, staring Jack right in the eye as she grabbed Rhys’ now exposed cock, giving it a tight squeeze that had him moaning and arching away from Jack’s chest.

“Why don’t we let  _him_  decide where he wants to sit? Seems fair,” Nisha teased as she kissed Jack’s chin over the kid’s shoulder, long fingers wrapping around the base of his cock and giving it a sharp tug. Rhys jerked, head falling back against Jack as his breaths starting coming faster. Jack’s eyes glittered at the challenge, his crotch hardening against Rhys’ quivering rear.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Nish.”


	8. Rhackothy, Xenophilia, Oviposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight dubious consent in this one.

It wasn’t often that prey as delicious as this so readily fell into their claws.

Usually Tim and Jack had to make do with tearing apart stringy rakk meat in order to fuel their craggy, hulking bodies, and though that did enough to keep their strength up, they had other needs left regrettably left unattended by the screeching, feral prey that most often strayed into their territory.

To say Jack was getting pretty fed up with having to endure his breeding cycle alone was an understatement. He was damn sick of the burning clench through his loins every month, the whole ordeal fruitless and annoying with nothing to plug his cock into—and Tim couldn’t help, not with those instinctive barriers rendering him completely unappealing, even as he thrashed and moaned through his own painful cycle.

But all that changed one evening when Tim, burnt out from the empty pleasure, galloped out into the thicket of jungle surrounding their lair, and returned with a human struggling and swinging from his claws.

He was no bandit—his clothes were far more refined than the hodgepodge livery of the usual Pandoran vagrants—but Jack cared less what he was and more how he looked. And he looked delicious. Not to the mouth, but to the loins.

The man’s pants were easily pulled down, nearly shredded off of his body in the monsters’ eagerness. He struggled, lashing out with a metal fist as he groped for the handle of the weapon at his belt, but Jack and Tim quickly grabbed an arm apiece, holding the young man suspended between them as both of their cocks jostled for room at their prey’s entrance.

Luckily, the young man seemed to relax after a couple moments of struggling, his head throwing back in pleasure as the monsters started to sink into him at once. If Jack was in a clearer state of mind, he might be stunned at how much he could take without tearing or screaming, but with his cycle lit aflame by the promise of sex he could think about little more than plunging as deep inside of his mate as possible and ladening him nice and full and  _finally_  snapping the painful arousal he’d been suffering through month after month.

“ _Nngh_ , Tim look, he’s actually  _enjoying_  it,” Jack growled gruffly as he bounced his hips, burying his cock deeper inside until he could see the head start to press out against the young man’s belly, bulging like some alien parasite. Tim had buried his teeth into their prey’s shoulder, whining softly against the mouthful of flesh as his cock rubbed up against his brother’s deep inside their shared mate.

By the time both monster’s had come, their cocks swelling up to knot within him, the young man had already spurted against his stomach several times, the last jerk giving only a couple drops of come against his belly as it bloated with the release of the twin dicks inside him. Jack grunted and grasped him as he went limp, holding his body up as his own insides pinched and shifted. He could feel the clutch within him begin to dislodge,  _finally_  descending through his hips along the trail slicked by come and into the base of his cock. Tim cried out next to him, going through the same thing as his own eggs worked through his shaft and into their prey.

Jack felt the young man stiffen in his arms at the sudden, swollen press, fear and confusion flashing in his wide eyes as he jerked his head down, trying to get a look between his legs. But Jack’s claws grasped against his chin, yanking it up as he licked a long hot strip up his face, tasting the salt of sweating sex lingering on his cheek.

“Best if you don’t look, pumpkin. Not that it’ll stop ‘em coming,” he chuckled, long tongue licking between his exposed fangs as he felt the first of the eggs start to push out of his cock, anticipation swelling like a balloon.

“Just lay back and  _enjoy_  it.”


	9. Jackothy, Collars, Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omegaverse in this one.

“Stay _down_ , alpha dog,” Jack snarled as he pressed his boot against the back of Timothy’s neck, kicking him down against the floor. The blow was glancing but Tim went obediently, pressing his cheek against the cool hardwood as Jack dug his heel into his shoulder while also tugging sharply on the lead attached to Tim’s collar. 

The alpha choked on cue, a string of salty saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth as Jack pulled on the leash as he pressed down with his boot, causing the juncture between Tim’s neck and shoulder to stretch like the seam of a toy being fought over by greedy children. 

Jack tilted his head, considering the alpha beneath him with a satisfied smirk.

“Good. I like it when you accept your place, Timmy.” He jangled the chains of the lead like a whip, the end length lashing against Tim’s neck as the collar tightens around his throat. The alpha gasped, breath wheezing against the floor as he’s forced to gulp as much air as he can, while he still can. 

And yet, through the pain and dizziness Jack’s forced upon him Tim kept stoic, looking up at Jack with a steady, unyielding eye. 

For Tim’s nose had always been sharper than his peers, even sharper than some of the omegas more naturally predisposed to scenting. Beneath the scent of his own blood, pooling against the inside of his cheek, beneath even the heavy cologne Jack draped himself in every morning like some kind of ritual, he could detect that faintest hint of what the CEO tried to desperately to hide with these flashy shows of lust and dominance. Even as Jack choked the air from Timothy’s lungs beneath the tight yoke, he could always smell it, and maybe that’s why Jack kicked him down and ground his heels into his body as if he could stamp his secret into dust. 

“You’re _mine_ ,” Jack hissed as he finally lifted his boot off of Tim, jerking the alpha to sitting up as he fingered the collar around his throat. His crotch rubbed against the back of Tim’s head, already hardened in readiness. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

And as long as Jack remembered that Tim knew what he was hiding, he wouldn’t. 


End file.
